


When thou art near

by Koneia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koneia/pseuds/Koneia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes an unexpected standstill in life marks just the beginning of something new. A story from Chakotay's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When thou art near

**Author's Note:**

> My second entry for the 'Time on My Hands'-challenge on VAMB by Lauawill, who provided the first sentence 'I've never had so much time on my hands'. Many thanks to the wonderful GSlovesvoyager for your beta-reading and support! *big hug* Of course all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: I unfortunately still don’t own anything of Paramount or Star Trek Voyager. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Inspired by the beautiful baroque song 'Bist du bei mir' ('When thou art near') from Gottfried Heinrich Stölzel, which is often wrongly attributed to J.S. Bach. A story from Chakotay's point of view.

 

 

I've never had so much time on my hands, yet time has never been so insignificant to me before. As insignificant as it seems to be for the beauty of the surrounding Skandinavian landscape, sizzling with life and yet quietly at peace with itself resting in the strength of midsummer. My sense of time, strangely blurred, follows the rhythm of a never setting Swedish sun and the gentle waves of the Torneträsk touching its shore. Although it feels like I’ve been here for ages, judging from the length of my beard’s stubbles it can’t be very long.  
  
A day and a half.  
  
Maybe two.  
  
Two days ago the proverbial sand corn had found its way into the well-oiled gearwheels of what I thought to be my life and brought it to a standstill. Who would have thought it? A simple four minutes piece of music from a long dead composer had shattered my soul. More exactly, thirty words had left my spirit crying in agony. Just because I forgot to deactivate the universal translator as Annika had suggested when we took our seats after the break of the midsummer night’s concert.  
  
Understanding was the consequence. Literally.  
  
And so finally. It ended my already struggling relationship to Annika faster than it had begun, maybe because we both realized the truth at the same time.  
  
Pieces of bark which I’ve inscribed with those very words, float beside an old bleached trunk in the water, touching my bare feet as if to remind me of their content. It’s difficult to avert my gaze from them.  
  
 _When thou art near, I go with joy  
To death and to my rest.  
O how pleasant would my end be,  
If your fair hands  
Would close my faithful eyes._  
  
Words, so small, had forced my life to a sudden halt, had stopped it abruptly in midst of a wild race while the rest of the galaxy still whirls around me. Now unexpectedly existing in my life’s eye of a tornado, things look different, unveiled, presenting themselves in an unmasked clarity which hurts. It hurts like hell.  
  
As it should when truth seeps into every pore and relentlessly cuts through the thoroughly created constructs of self-deception. With all my tears cried, all the anger yelled out, I’m finally past the hellish stage of self-pity and have arrived in the lucid terrain of self-awareness.  
  
Kathryn. I want Kathryn to close my eyes when my time has come. As simply as this, as difficult as this.  
  
Our relationship has never been an easy one. Circumstances were against us. Two enemies, two captains, stranded far away in an unknown and belligerent quadrant. It was clear from the beginning that as commanding officers without the opportunity of exchange with others we are doomed to our roles and in regards to each other. No breaking out, if we want to bring our crew home. Our friendship came as a pleasant surprise - it very well could have been different – but the gradually developing affection was ultimately a shock. There was simply no place for an _us_. Not out there, not in this fragile situation. We fought together against our enemies with teeth and claws. And eventually we started fighting against the mutual affection and against each other, not with teeth and claws, but it hurt nevertheless. Until we both went numb from the unrelenting pressure and mutual injuries. Nevertheless it was always she who waited in sickbay for me to wake up and I did the same for her. Self-deception is indeed a powerful instrument.  
  
In hindsight there was never a chance to see each other at the best, totally at ease and without the burden of command. Instead we had plenty of opportunities to see us at our worst. At first unable to accept it, I held onto every straw within my reach to preserve the affection, later what little lightness was left between us, and finally I let go, but for the wrong reasons. The hot, shortlived and superficial rush of affection towards another woman.  
  
But love does not have to be prominent; it can weave itself through one’s life, subtly, building strong, almost invisible threads and carries you through the most turbulent waters. My love for Kathryn is one of that kind.  
  
And now that I remember, I hate myself having forgotten it.

 

 

 

  
Footfalls on the gravelled path to the sea announce the unexpected visitor long before she comes into sight. Kathryn.  
  
It’s so good to see her. And it’s good that we are going to talk. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that. Wearily I rise to my feet to meet her. My current state certainly qualifies for being seen at my worst again, but also at my most honest.  
  
As she comes nearer it becomes apparent that she too had cried; her eyes are red and swollen within her pale face and she looks as tired as I feel. We never break eye contact until she comes to a halt within arm’s reach; it is as if her grief washes over my soul and adds its dark waters to mine. It’s almost too much to bear. For us both. Finally she turns towards the sea, facing the wind.  
  
“Seven called me.” Her familiar husky voice lingers in the air. I’ve missed her.  
  
It’s difficult for me to talk; my throat still aches from yelling all my emotions into the wind. “How is she?”  
  
“She is going to search for Axum.” There is no need to explain further. So she must know all. That Annika and I have broken up. That neither Annika nor I saw the other as the one being there when life comes to an end.  
  
“She asked me in whose arms I want to be in the last moments of my life.” The whisper of her voice is almost swallowed by the rhythmic sound of the waves around us.  
  
Neither of us speaks. She takes a deep breath before she continues. “The thing is, Chakotay, I’ve died in your arms before. I know exactly how it feels like.”  
  
The water in front of my bare feet still pushes the piece of old trunk to the shore. Lifeless. A lifeless corpse. Like Kathryn had been. My voice is barely louder than hers. “The thing is, Kathryn, I know exactly how it feels like to lose you.”  
  
In so many ways.  
  
Almost like an answer, a small breeze carries her scent in my direction, the familiarity and intimacy forcefully intruding the last barriers surrounding my innermost part; it’s impossible to fight the need to close my eyes anymore. Hot tears run along my cheeks. Burning hot tears.  
  
“Chakotay?” Her touch on my upper arm is light; soothes like balm on my soul and I realize that I hadn’t expected her to ever touch me again. The warm wind sweeping over my bare skin is unable to obscure the warmth of her body besides me.  
  
“What happened to us out there, Kathryn?”  
  
“Fate. The Delta Quadrant.” She pauses, swallows hard. “Life. As simple as that ... Please, Chakotay, look at me.”  
  
Although her face looks vague through my blurred vision of tears, her eyes shine clear through the veil - eyes that bore deep into my very being where she has always been. Embedded. Welcomed.  
  
Maybe what had happened to us out there was merely life. But life is also happening in the here and now, pulsating beneath my fingers which are running over the skin of her soft cheek, so soft and wet from her own tears. She doesn’t flinch at my touch. Only her eyes widen slightly – it is as if she too didn’t expect me to touch her ever again.  
  
“I’m so exhausted Kathryn.” Exhausted from fighting life, circumstances, myself. It’s unnecessary to explain it further. We’ve gone too much of our lives together on the same paths to not understand.  
  
“Me too.” She answers and simply wraps her arms around my waist, her body melting effortlessly against mine as if it belongs there. Equally easy my hands slide around her back to embrace her.  
  
Maybe in the end things are as simple as that. Engulfed by the midsummer’s timeless peace surrounding us, my inner turmoil also comes to rest, our breathings finding a shared rhythm and merge with the sounds around us. The humming of a bee, a bird’s cry, waves purling onto the stony shore.  
  
My stomach rumbles.  
  
Kathryn stirs in my arms, snuggles her head into the crook of my neck, her breath feathering on my skin. "Hungry?"  
  
"Hell yes." Her hair tingles on my lips and I place a soft kiss on her head, before cautiously drawing her a little closer. Hungry indeed.  
  
"Watch it mister." Despite her teasing words she tightens her grip around me, forcing me to smile. Yes. I’m going to watch it. Watch us.  
  
I promise.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The original wording is as follows:
> 
> Bist du bei mir, geh ich mit Freuden  
> zum Sterben und zu meiner Ruh.  
> Ach, wie vergnügt wär so mein Ende,  
> es drückten deine schönen Hände  
> mir die getreuen Augen zu!


End file.
